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Authors: Anna Randol
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your aunt’s sleeping tisane from your dressing room.”
“It’s not necessary.”
But her maid had already slipped past her.
Juliana sucked in a breath to explain Ian even though she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. “I—” She turned toward the bed.
Not even a wrinkle marked where Ian had been.
Chapter Eleven
W ell, that had been an evening Ian didn’t want soon repeated. It felt as though his innards had been twisted up in knots.
The last thing either of them needed was for him to forge any sort of lasting bonds between them.
She was a bloody princess.
There wasn’t anything linking them together once this task was done. At some point, she’d grow weary of his little parlor tricks and kick his sorry arse to the gutter.
It was far better that he never give her that chance.
Four more days.
Ian kicked at a foul puddle in the street, not caring when it splattered over his boots.
A shadow scurried a little too quickly to his right.
The hilt of his knife slid smoothly into the palm of his hand.
“It’s Apple,” a small voice whispered. “Can I come out or are you going to gut me afore I can tell you what I came to tell you.”
Ian sheathed his knife. “I thought you’d be smart enough to take the escape I gave you from all of this.”
The girl stepped into the dim light; her dirty face was even filthier, her hair hanging in lank strands. “I’ve been scouting the place out.”
The girl was clever, he’d give her that. “It’s safe. You should go. Or I have rooms at The Albany. Stay there. I have no use for them.”
“Me? In the bloomin’ Albany? They won’t let me in the coal cellar.”
“If you can’t find a way in, then you don’t deserve to stay there. It’s better than living in a rubbish heap—as you have apparently been doing.”
Apple crossed her arms. “Let’s see if you’re still complaining after hearing what information I brung you.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“There’s a good deal of blunt being offered for your death. Over a hundred pounds, if the stories are right.”
A fortune on these streets. “Why didn’t you off me? You found me easily enough.”
She shrugged. “That place you rescued us from . . .” Her hands balled into fists. “I don’t like owing anyone.”
Hell, she might be smart enough for the streets, but nobility would get her killed just as quickly as stupidity.
“Who’s offering the money?”
“Don’t know. But there are two other bounties being offered. One on a bloke named Cipher and one on that light skirt Madeline Valdan what got herself married to the Runner. They mates of yours?”
Someone had just made a very foolish mistake. One that would cost him his life. “No.”
But Apple’s eyes were far too knowing. “So you say. But from what I hear there’s many who are mighty interested in taking that reward. I wouldn’t venture very far into the darkness. Your reputation might keep a few away but these are desperate times and all.”
Ian took his purse from his pocket and handed it to her. “Where do the killers go to get their money if they are successful?”
She hefted the bag. “Grimwald’s tavern.”
Ian knew of it. More deals were brokered there every day than in an entire week on the Exchange. Yet Ian had never had a reason to go there.
It was time that lapse was rectified.
I f only he were the type to go in, bash some heads together, and demand answers. Instead, Ian was crouched in Grimwald’s bedroom, waiting for the old man to retire for the night. As soon as Ian had delivered warnings to both Madeline and Clayton, he’d come to the room in the back of the tavern.
Unlike the office where the money was kept, Grimwald’s private rooms had been laughably easy to enter.
A quick search of the room had given Ian everything he needed to know about Grimwald.
The man valued two things—his tavern and his grandson. Henry, by the name on the bottom of the drawing.
Juliana probably
“It’s not necessary.”
But her maid had already slipped past her.
Juliana sucked in a breath to explain Ian even though she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. “I—” She turned toward the bed.
Not even a wrinkle marked where Ian had been.
Chapter Eleven
W ell, that had been an evening Ian didn’t want soon repeated. It felt as though his innards had been twisted up in knots.
The last thing either of them needed was for him to forge any sort of lasting bonds between them.
She was a bloody princess.
There wasn’t anything linking them together once this task was done. At some point, she’d grow weary of his little parlor tricks and kick his sorry arse to the gutter.
It was far better that he never give her that chance.
Four more days.
Ian kicked at a foul puddle in the street, not caring when it splattered over his boots.
A shadow scurried a little too quickly to his right.
The hilt of his knife slid smoothly into the palm of his hand.
“It’s Apple,” a small voice whispered. “Can I come out or are you going to gut me afore I can tell you what I came to tell you.”
Ian sheathed his knife. “I thought you’d be smart enough to take the escape I gave you from all of this.”
The girl stepped into the dim light; her dirty face was even filthier, her hair hanging in lank strands. “I’ve been scouting the place out.”
The girl was clever, he’d give her that. “It’s safe. You should go. Or I have rooms at The Albany. Stay there. I have no use for them.”
“Me? In the bloomin’ Albany? They won’t let me in the coal cellar.”
“If you can’t find a way in, then you don’t deserve to stay there. It’s better than living in a rubbish heap—as you have apparently been doing.”
Apple crossed her arms. “Let’s see if you’re still complaining after hearing what information I brung you.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“There’s a good deal of blunt being offered for your death. Over a hundred pounds, if the stories are right.”
A fortune on these streets. “Why didn’t you off me? You found me easily enough.”
She shrugged. “That place you rescued us from . . .” Her hands balled into fists. “I don’t like owing anyone.”
Hell, she might be smart enough for the streets, but nobility would get her killed just as quickly as stupidity.
“Who’s offering the money?”
“Don’t know. But there are two other bounties being offered. One on a bloke named Cipher and one on that light skirt Madeline Valdan what got herself married to the Runner. They mates of yours?”
Someone had just made a very foolish mistake. One that would cost him his life. “No.”
But Apple’s eyes were far too knowing. “So you say. But from what I hear there’s many who are mighty interested in taking that reward. I wouldn’t venture very far into the darkness. Your reputation might keep a few away but these are desperate times and all.”
Ian took his purse from his pocket and handed it to her. “Where do the killers go to get their money if they are successful?”
She hefted the bag. “Grimwald’s tavern.”
Ian knew of it. More deals were brokered there every day than in an entire week on the Exchange. Yet Ian had never had a reason to go there.
It was time that lapse was rectified.
I f only he were the type to go in, bash some heads together, and demand answers. Instead, Ian was crouched in Grimwald’s bedroom, waiting for the old man to retire for the night. As soon as Ian had delivered warnings to both Madeline and Clayton, he’d come to the room in the back of the tavern.
Unlike the office where the money was kept, Grimwald’s private rooms had been laughably easy to enter.
A quick search of the room had given Ian everything he needed to know about Grimwald.
The man valued two things—his tavern and his grandson. Henry, by the name on the bottom of the drawing.
Juliana probably
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